Emotions of War
by natida
Summary: The years between Hogwarts and the end of the First War, for Peter Pettigrew. From accomplished to failed: A series of short one-shots.
1. Accomplished

**A/N: So instead of continuing my other fanfics, I've decided to follow a series of prompts from the LJ community **_**potterfics**_** by workaholic1231…I sent in a request but they didn't answer, so I'm just posting anyway and I hope I don't mortally offend anyone or break any laws..xD**

**I've realized that there are few fanfics about Peter in comparison to other characters, for obvious reasons…but I don't think that he was a bad person from the beginning. I think his story is simply the story of someone who was torn apart by the war, maybe not entirely because of his own fault. Of course, that doesn't forgive him for what he does, but anyway, it's fun to write. :D**

**This'll be a series of 32 oneshots, I think, some really short and the rest a bit longer. Actually, I suspect that my AN is longer than this chapter o.o Hope you enjoy!**

The air feels like spring, and he's walking through the gates of Hogwarts for the last time, on his way out, arms slung around Remus and Sirius' shoulders, feeling the comforting pressure of their arms on his shoulders as they stride out victoriously.

Secretly, Peter Pettigrew knows that they're not quite sure what they're celebrating. The world is at war, now, and the way out of the grounds of Hogwarts is lined with Aurors who look around them with an intensity that even makes James nervous, because it's the kind of intensity that tells you that the Aurors want to find someone, and the Daily Prophet is evidence that the Ministry doesn't really care _who_ they catch, as long as it looks like they're doing _something_.

All in all, it's not the best moment for Peter to feel accomplished.

But he does. He really, sincerely, deeply, _does_ feel accomplished. He feels victorious. Because he's passed his NEWTS with the best grades he's ever received, after months and months of working hard and making Sirius and James laugh at how he's nearly more studious than Remus, after long droughts of Sleepless Potion to ensure that he didn't die in Transfiguration Class after nights of doing homework. Because he has friends, and not just any friends; he has friends that will _die_ for him (and it's not an exaggeration, Peter can see it in their eyes when they look at him, and can feel it in his own when he thinks of them), friends that love him and care for him and help him whenever he needs it. Friends that make him laugh and whom he himself can make laugh.

It's magical. Even more so than spells, or hexes, or potions, or Quidditch. Their friendship is magical.

Yes, he feels accomplished. Even though he can't flaunt the fact that he has a girlfriend, like James does every second he's with Lily, or that he's the best student in his class, like Remus can, or that he's the guy all the girls want, like Sirius does…no, Peter Pettigrew isn't all that special, but he still feels accomplished.

And he likes that; he really does.

**A/N: Please don't forget how happy a review, even if it's just one word, can make an author…whether you liked the fic or not! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Aggravated

The air feels solid as he breathes, hard to inhale, hard to keep breathing. It weighs down on his heart as he watches his mother and the words _No, mum, I can´t stay_, seem so hard and sharp against his tongue, and he can´t push them out, not towards his mother that is watching him with shock and horror and worry etched on her face.

She looks so frail, standing there, his yellow-haired mother with faint gray lines traced on her head, with kindly eyes that are marked by her smiles, with that apron she's worn for as long as he can remember. And in that moment, he´s just _Peter darling_, the smallest among three older sisters, the one who was given everything, the one who everyone adored; and it isn´t surprising, when he thinks about it later, that his mother would not understand why he was going to live in London, where more and more wizards died every day, were tortured and robbed.

But he's not going there for a better job, or to be close to his friends, as he tells her…well, not _quite_ for that reason. In truth, he's going there for Dumbledore and for the Order of the Phoenix, because there's a war and he's joined it. He wants to do _something_, _anything_, to help defeat Voldemort. And yes, he's terrified out of his wits, but he can't get over the fact that it may be _his_ family next, or _his _friends, or _his _classmates. Johann Becker died the weekend before; he used to help Peter with his homework. Peter still feels nauseous at the thought of Johann's body sprawled on the cover of the Daily Prophet.

His mother won´t listen, she won´t understand. And yes, he _is_ going to London to be closer to his friends. Because they're going there, and he's haunted by the idea that one day he could hear the news that _they're_ dead and he never did anything to help them…that he was never close enough to do anything to stop it…

But then she's saying that _no, you have to admit, darling, you're not that good at magic as most _and _you could get hurt and it would all be for nothing_ and _you need to be here, where you can be with mummy and she can help look after you_…

And then he´s _aggravated_, and sickened that his mother could say something like that. Yes, he may not be the best wizard, but to have her say it in his face, and so condescending, so wrong, like he's a child that needs looking after, like he´s not eighteen but he's six, and an idiot who doesn't know what to do, like he's barely magical, not an animagus…and he's oh, _so tempted_ to show her how he can transform into a rat…

But no. For the first time, Peter glares at his mother, and his expression makes her settle into a shocked silence.

He shakes his head firmly and puts his foot down, telling her he's leaving, and nothing she does can stop him. He's strong enough to defend himself, to fight back, to _live_.

And he might be worried sick, but he swallows down his fear and hugs her as she cries into his shoulder, and he's aggravated at the world for making him make her cry.


	3. Amused

The air smells like firewhisky, really, but maybe it's simply because Sirius is breathing down his neck like a dog.

Peter doesn't really know what has Sirius drunk _this _time. Sirius gets drunk when he's in a bad mood, and he doesn't generally share his feelings with Peter. It's James whom he tells straight away, and Remus whom he tells when he's drunk and miserable and needing advice.

Because that's what Remus does. And Peter knows, as much as the other ones do, that for all Padfoot's show of being the cool one, who doesn't really care what other people think about him, Sirius is lost...and he doesn't really know what to do about it.

So Sirius is drunk, and Peter is getting fed up with the scent of firewhisky on his neck and his face. They're sitting in a nighclub (one of those dark places Sirius seems to know about) and while James is taken and isn't allowed to dance with any of the pretty witches that are drinking and dancing and having fun there that night, it's obvious that the rest of them are.

Arne and Dev are with them, too, and they're all kind of excited (except for Sirius, who's just drunk, but they simply ignore him). So Remus is off wooing some girl at the bar and Peter can see how she's smiling and giggling and everything, because Remus is a sweet guy, wether he admits it or not, and everyone is kind of enchanted by Remus, wether they admit it or not. And James is chewing on a chocolate frog and laughing at Sirius' drunk mumblings, while Dev and Arne mingle with the crowd.

So Peter gets up after taking a shot of whatever it was they served him, making his way towards one of the lonelier tables that are in a corner. He can see two girls there, a blonde and a brunette, and the latter one catches his attention because she looks sweet and her smile is bright, her eyes dancing when she laughs. She's wearing a blue dress and silver hoops dangle from her ears as she talks to her friend.

He's never really approached a girl like this, not since pretty strawberry blonde Jenny on the Christmas holidays in Third Year, and he can't help but get a bit nervous. It was always his friends who set him up with girls, and though he's kissed a couple of times it was never anything serious or memorable. So he gathers his nerves and smoothly walks over to where they are.

And it's a couple of moments later when they're smiling at him and flirting, and the brunette is funny and cute, and Peter is amused. Amused at the faces of his friends as they realize that he's flirting with _two_ girls, and amused at the brunette who's joking.

But then, after he's bought them both two drinks and they're laughing and enjoying themselves, they wordlessly leave him at the table and run off to dance with two guys who look like they could play Quidditch professionally.

And then it's his friends that are amused at him, and the girls that are laughing at him, and Peter feels the sharp sting of knowing _for sure_ that if it had been Sirius, or James, or even Remus, the girls would have stayed.

So he walks back to his table, head held up as high as he can muster, though his throat is tight with shame, and endures the firewhisky-smelling jeers of a drunken Sirius.


	4. Angry

A/N: would have posted earlier, but I've been writing this at work so I've had limited time to continue the chapter. Hope you enjoy, and thanks to IronSpockMaster for keeping me going xD

The air feels oppressive as he sits next to Remus under the cover of James' old invisibility cloak. They've been there for three hours already, he knows, playing that stupid muggle game of colors and spying and whatnot that Alice taught them for situations like this one: waiting half-heartedly for a Death Eater to show up and prove that the person that's informing Voldemort of the Ministry's plans _is_ in fact Carlo Jeveaux.

They've been doing the same thing for ages (well, two nights but it might as well be two centuries to Peter) and even eternally patient Moony is hoping that something, _anything_, will happen.

"I'm glad it's you I got stuck with, though," says Peter after going on an uncharacteristical rant (in truth it was a bit more of a whine) about Death Eaters and their incapacity to arrive at a remotely courteous hour, seeing as is already one in the morning. "Sirius would have gotten really irritable after half an hour, and James would have kept talking about The Ring Incident…"

"…something none of us really want to see or hear about again," finishes Remus with a shudder, a grimace and a laugh, before turning to look at him with a mixture of seriousness and pity, though Peter isn't sure towards who it's directed; towards him, or Remus, or Sirius and James. "You can't really blame them for who they are, though…they have their faults, but they're better people than most." But it's an understatement, they both know, of how wonderful Sirius and James really are. And Remus' expression has darkened for a second, and Peter feels inexplicably guilty for bringing up the subject.

"Still," Remus adds after a pause. "I'm glad it's you with me here, too. You're a bit more…relaxed, maybe? Padfoot would have imperiused me to dance or something, for entertainment."

They both laugh, and Peter is glad, because he's different; and it's like he's just proved the fact to that Jorkins girl from Hufflepuff, who was wrong, oh so very _wrong_ about whether or not he was special…whether he deserved to be a Marauder.

And then there's a _crash_, and they have two seconds where they pull out their wands before their cover is blown, and then it's all _protego_ and _stupefy_ and _impedimenta_, and running, running, dodging, crashing into trees, because they've never used magic like this, with so many things hanging by a string.

He sees Remus cast a patronus to call for the rest of the Order's help, and then he's hit by a _petrificus totalus_ and falls to the ground, feeling the blood trickle down the side of his face. And suddenly he can hear Remus yelling, _screaming_ in pain as Peter as never heard before, and he knows that they're using _Crucio_ on him, and they're hurting him…Remus, _Remus_, who was always nice to him, who already suffered every month without their bloody help.

And he feels anger as he never has felt threatening to burst out of his soul. He wants to kill. He's never wanted that before. He _hates_ them for what they've done. He hates them for contaminating him with the feeling.

**Review, review, review, please?**


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